


I Know in Time (You'll Be Alright)

by cassiejamie



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M, Past Sexual Assault of a Character, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-25
Updated: 2009-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-07 13:15:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiejamie/pseuds/cassiejamie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Could he do it, was the question, and with every meaning implied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know in Time (You'll Be Alright)

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of Past Sexual Assault.

**Part One**

  
It was spoken of in whispers and questions, muttered across the internet like a quiet sin while fans wondered and Zach hid away from the internet, his publicist the mouthpiece of his facebook and twitter. Perceived as a dirty secret, or perhaps a shameful one, they tossed lazy inquiries about his sexuality between one another, never truly understanding why he'd failed to appear in public with a date of any gender.

Kristen knew, and Hayden and Milo; they'd been there with him, supported him, when the sky fell from the heavens and Zach was left like a simpering child to pick up the pieces. He'd never told his mother – how could he? - nor had he even told Joe, not after the pain he'd felt at calling Kristen at three in the morning to beg her for a ride to the hospital. The pain of calling set hours after that and not being able to reach anyone but his newly made friends, having to tell Hayden, sixteen year old just-met-two-weeks-ago Hayden, that he'd been _raped_ and wouldn't make it in that day.

The same Hayden who was sprawled on his trailer's couch, shoes kicked off, as she picked at her lunch and remarked, "He _really_ likes you," between bites. She shifted on the couch again, plucking a slice of tomato from between layers of cheese and slurping it down, make up be damned, and went on, "He's always showing up at your house with food, volunteers to walk Noah, and he keeps taking you out for coffee on your day off. Face it, Zach, the guy's in love with you."

He shrugged. "I'm not saying you're right, Hayd, but if he is... You know what'll happen – two dates tops before he wants to fuck me, I'll panic, and that'll be the last I see of him," Zach retorted, running a chopstick through the wasabi before snatching a thin sliver of ginger and laying it atop one piece of sushi. "And seeing as we haven't even started filming on the second Trek, it'd destroy the chemistry before we even got onset."

Stuffing the sushi piece into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully, Zach moved from the chair he'd been sitting in to the floor, settling his plastic takeaway container onto the tiny coffee table Joe had given him, and sighing. His head fell back against the cushion he'd so recently been sitting on, mind racing as a million fantasies filled his mind and he groaned.

It wasn't that Zach didn't have sexual feelings anymore, he did, it was the fact that every person he'd attempted to date in the last three years had simply ignored him when it came to the bedroom. He asked to be face up, they shoved him on his stomach; he asked for slow and gentle, they left bruises when he inevitably thrashed them off of him. People just couldn't seem to understand that the calm, controlled persona he projected in public was little like the man he was in private.

But that didn't mean he was dead; he jerked off several times a week and he watched porn, he daydreamed. He just didn't want to be thrown down on a bed and fucked, which Kristen swore wasn't too much to ask every time he wondered. He didn't need romance first, he really didn't, but a nice conversation before and some actual consideration...

Zach snorted at the realization, the knowledge, that he'd always had that with Chris. They could spend hours on the phone or hanging out in his living room talking about topics that could make other people's heads spin and it'd never felt forced, never felt wrong; they'd gone out to eat dozens of times, always with Zach's input.

"Z?" She called, plate falling into her lap.

"Sorry, just thinking," he admitted, rubbing his eyes with the heels of both hands. He'd been awake for several hours before filming, a bout of insomnia keeping him awake for some subconscious reason, and his energy was beginning to flag, had been since before they all separated for their late lunch.

It made him long for his bed and his dog, to curl up under his blankets and relax, though he knew that was a long way off: he'd promised Chris they'd met up after he was finished. It wasn't to do much – Chris had adopted a dog from an area rescue and Zach had offered Chris the chance to let Noah and Rudy play in his backyard – but they'd jokingly called it a date and in light of the current conversation and his sudden exhaustion, he pondered how upset Pine would be if he canceled.

Hayden tapped him on the head with a clean finger, smiling as she said, "Must be deep thoughts," then, "You keep dazing out on me."

He moved to apologize again, but one soft glare from the girl had him stopping in his tracks. Both she and Milo had told him from the start that he didn't need to say he was sorry all the time, especially for the things he couldn't control. Like getting assaulted, having nightmares, and having to miss certain times with the cast for his therapy appointments.

"Just trying to figure this out," he muttered.

"All right. Then I'm going to sit here and try to figure it out too, okay?" She leaned into the decorative pillows a little more, back sinking into the plush blue cotton squares, and made a comically thoughtful face which only served to make him laugh. Another minute more and she made another face, tapping her chin with one finger, then shooting it into the air and declaring, "Eureka!" before getting to her feet.

"Are you going to share with the rest of the class, Archimedes?" Zach asked, reaching for his food once more as his appetite returned, unfettered by his thoughts.

She shook her head, a proud grin on her lips. "Not yet. You stay here and look pretty. I've gotta go consult Milo," she told him, yanking her shoes on and dashing out the door with her plate still firmly in one hand.

"Consult Milo?" He muttered, "Yes, because he's _always_ a bastion of rational thought." He rolled his eyes and polished off his meal, jumping when he passed into the kitchen and his cellphone began to blare the Star Trek theme.

It was Chris' ringback tone, set with more glee than a twenty-nine year old should have over something so frivolous, and he grinned for a moment, reaching for it, only to be thwarted by a thump to the trailer door. "You're needed on-set, Mr. Quinto!" one of the assistants announced.

With some annoyance, Zach tossed his phone back down. "I'll be right there!"

**Part Two**

  
"Sorry I'm late," Zach declared as he hopped out of his car and raced toward the door. "Milo couldn't hit the mark and Hayden's stalker showed up, so we couldn't leave until the cops got there," he explained as he slid the key into the lock while simultaneously dragging his coat off, adding, "That guy's scaring the fuck out of me and I'm a thirty-year old guy - I didn't want to leave her, even if Adrian was..."

"Zach! Calm down, man. It's cool, it's cool," Chris interrupted, smiling. He'd been, and still was, perfectly content to hang out on Zach's porch with his little dachshund while Zach finished up whatever it was he'd been doing. The lounge chairs set at one end were comfortable and in the warm weather, they were a delight to lay back on and Rudy had bounced on the other.

With a sigh, Zach threw his coat over the back of the couch and reached for Noah who was laying happily in his crate. "Hey, buddy, have a nice day without me around?" he asked, smiling, before trading his Chucks for a pair of sandals.

Chris laughed, bending forward to give Noah a quick pet in greeting. "Aw, you know he didn't. He loves when you're here with him," he said, adding a chin scratch as he went on, "He's a daddy's boy, Zach. Right, Noah? Right? Good boy!"

Snickering at the sight of Chris sliding to the floor and romping with Noah, Zach couldn't help but enjoy the exuberance palatable in the room. Pine was chuckling and play growling at the mutt while Rudy yapped lively around them, jumping at Noah who bounced back; beyond them Harold stood and stretched, watching as the three kept up their noisy romp.

Then one of Noah's nails caught the hardwood of the floor, a long scratch cutting into the board noticeably and while it didn't really bother Zach – it was the price a person paid to have animals in their life – he still took it as an indicator to move their play outside. There, Noah could rip up the entire yard if he wanted and Zach could sit on the patio with dinner, maybe a glass of wine, and talk with Chris, though after the conversation he'd had earlier with Hayden, sitting at the table beside his friend was not without some trepidation.

As the dogs greeted each other, sniffing rears and jumping in circles before engaging in a game of chase, Zach settled into one of the more comfortable chairs with a plate of re-warmed pasta, the merlot ignored in favor of coffee. He was within touching distance of Chris, something normally not a problem, but with his mind stuck on the mere idea of how much of a disaster dating Pine would end up being, he felt more than a little awkward.

"You okay?" Chris asked after several minutes of odd silence. It was unusual for Zach to simply tuck into his meal without a word, to eat forkful after forkful without a laugh or a story – he was a talkative, happy guy and to not say anything bothered Chris. "Seriously, you're kind of quiet."

"Just tired," Zach answered, eyes flicking to his food.

Leaning in a bit closer, Chris pressed, "Liar. What's the matter?"

He sighed and dropped the fork, wiped his mouth with the napkin, then leaned back in the chair. For a moment, the antics of the dogs stole his attention, but Chris opened his mouth again and Zach cut him off with a hand, not ready for words himself yet not wanting to hear them from his friend either. He needed the delicate calm that'd fallen to compose himself, and once Zach had found the words he'd sought, he turned to Chris.

"Hayden and I were discussing you today, on lunch," he admitted, "She was telling me all the reasons she is convinced you like me. I was trying to revise her opinion."

Pine laughed. Only Zach would take his quiet attempts at courting as acts of friendship, even the ones not especially subtle, and Chris told him, "I do like you. I didn't know if you liked _me_ and I didn't want to freak you out," then, "Kristen warned me you're... skittish with guys since they seem to drop off the planet after the second date."

Zach, predictably, wasn't smiling or laughing himself nor did he have any lingering interest in his food. Kristen, that sneak, had probably decided that after a year of celibacy, he needed to try dating again and really, he wasn't looking to. Not with some random guy off the street, not with someone his friends thought he'd like, and not with Chris, someone he still had to work with even if their romance failed – they were contracted for two more films, damnit.

_Rock, meet hard place_, Quinto thought to himself, the fantasies of that afternoon bubbling up again; this time they were stronger, more arousing, and Zach knew it was due to Chris' mere presence, his desire to actually have a relationship. Could he do it, was the question, and with every meaning implied.

Chris let him go quiet again, a little scared that revealing his crush meant some sort of damage to their existing friendship. The latter of which he had too much stock in; his mother would most likely call it unhealthy, the amount of time they spent together, and he knew it would be true, but he didn't really care: he liked Zach, he wanted to be with Zach, and if he was being truthful, he'd love to wake up every morning with Zach. Infatuation, crush, honeymoon period – whatever someone wanted to call it, Chris couldn't seem to get the idea of dating his best friend out of his head.

Noah's bark stole both their attention, poised to leap directly onto Rudy and Zach was yelling, "Noah, no!" before Chris had a chance to react. It escaped neither of them how nonchalant Noah became, looking for all the world like the kid with his hand in the cookie jar, and the tension that had grown between them shattered.

It was leap of faith time, as his dad called it. The time where Chris had just a few minutes to make a choice and put the ball in Zach's court, to let Zach have the final say and pray it was the right thing. His heart twisted in his chest at the thought of rejection, but he had to do it and, holding his breath, Chris asked, "So would you like to go out for dinner tomorrow?"

**Interlude: Regret**

  
Cars passing in the night had never made much sense to Zach, not until he watched as Chris left and Kristen arrived.

He'd accepted Chris' invitation, some force in him giddy at the idea as he hadn't in the past, but the panic had set in almost immediately. Barely hidden under jokes and remarks about the dogs, Zach had kept himself as calm as possible for another ten minutes when he'd inevitably hid behind an explanation of exhaustion and sent Chris on his way. He'd then promptly texted Kristin just three numbers, answered her call with a plea for her to come over, and thus the old saying had begun to make sense.

The tap of her shoes reached his ears before she did, pulling him into a hug as she asked, "What's the matter? Tell me you didn't try going out with George again."

"No. This is worse," he retorted. "I just agreed to go out with Chris."

Kristen pulled back. "You didn't just get me out of bed at ten on a thursday with a nine-one-one page because you need to talk about clothing, did you?" she asked, the corner of her mouth turned down in a disapproving frown.

It wasn't uncommon for her to be consulted by Zach about his attire; when it came to his wardrobe, Zach was unique and usually confident, but when it came to dates, he was always uneasy. If he was told to dress casually, he was generally fine – a pair of jeans, a button down shirt – but anything more and he was sending her photos via email, texts, and modeling his choices.

"No, Kris," he answered, sliding back onto one of the loungers. With his legs spread on either side of the seat, his elbows sat comfortably onto his knees and his chin in his hands, he looked pitiful and Kristen sighed. This was Zach regretting, trying to figure a way out of the situation, something which drove her up the wall every time, because he really didn't need to second guess every decision. Especially not with Chris, who she'd been convinced from the start would be a good match for Zach – he was intelligent, witty, and an unfailing gentleman. At least around her and while he could be a vulgar guy in private for all she knew, Zach had never had anything bad to say about him beyond a frustrated comment here and there about the pranks they'd pulled on each other.

She plopped down onto the bouncy chair, mimicking his pose as she thought over the options now facing her friend: he could choose to go on the date or he could cancel, he could go on the date and take a chance on Chris being as nice as he seemed or he could actually talk to Chris about what he needed. No matter what he ended up doing, she'd support him and she said as much, careful to add, "But I really think you'll regret it, Zach, if you don't at least go on one date with the guy. You spend hours talking to him and about him and _his_ mother calls _your_ house for him."

"You've been talking to Hayden, haven't you?" he asked, relaxing incrementally. The younger woman's plan hadn't been nearly thought out enough and Milo had laughed about it throughout the evening; as they'd waited for the police to arrive and cart away the man obsessed with the twenty-year old, she'd relayed her idea while Ventimiglia smirked at her side.

"Z, I'm going to tell you something and I mean it with all the love in my heart – stop being a girl." She patted him on the back and stood up, moving toward the door as she went on, "You want this one so you're gonna have to suck it up. Now, tell me there's something to eat in this house before I'm forced to call for Thai."

**Part Three**

  
_Hey, where are you?_ Zach texted as he stood in his undershirt before his closet. He had worked himself down to a choice of two shirts – the solid purple one and the blue and white stripes – from six, but nerves were killing him, making him unable to choose.

With a sigh, Zach reached for one of the shirts, holding it up to himself; he was completely aware he was stalling, spending precious minutes on something so very inane. Really, he doubted highly that Chris would care whether he showed up in prints or solids nor the colors in his outfit after spending so much time around Zach and his Waldo shirt.

His phone chirped the reply, _Outside._

Zach cursed. He truly hadn't intended to spend an additional twenty-five minutes deciding on a shirt of all things and Chris was already there, waiting outside probably wasting gas in his car instead of coming inside. He texted back, _Fuck. Sorry. I thought I'd be ready by now._

_Take your time._ Chris answered.

Saying screw it to the stripes, Zach yanked on the purple tee shirt and shoved his phone into a pocket. Chris had said to dress comfortable and he had, a pair of skinny jeans slung low on his hips and a jacket caught in one hand as he made his way down the stairs to the first floor. Like a hummingbird flitting from place to place, he snatched his keys and wallet and pulled on a pair of shoes, all while his mind ran rampant with possibilities.

Horrendously nervous, Zach knew his discomfiture would be noticed by Chris and he paused as he reached for the doorknob. It had already taken considerable will throughout the day to not call Pine and cancel the date, his mind stuck on the idea of sex – something Chris took great pleasure in discussing – and for a moment he was tempted to call it off then.

_Stop this. It's Chris,_ he thought to himself, letting out a breath he wasn't aware he'd started to hold. _And it's just dinner._

In his pocket the phone buzzed, breaking Zach from his reverie and he resolutely turned the knob, flicked off the interior light and locked the door behind him before making his way down the path from the porch to the sidewalk. As he did so, he caught Chris' eyes, the sparkle in them, and with a mental smack upside the head, unhunched his shoulders and relaxed.

He slid into the passenger seat same as he had a million times prior and asked, "So, Christopher, where precisely are we going for dinner that I could wear whatever I chose?"

"To the only restaurant in LA where you could walk around naked if you wanted," he answered, grinning. "My house!"

Zach couldn't help the laugh. Of course, of all the places in the city to eat, Chris would opt for his own home where they would have to do the dishes and serving themselves. He was always complaining about the impersonality of it all and trying to get Zach to agree to a meal in a setting more cozy, more accepting of two guys – gay or not – sharing dinner.

Unfortunately though, once the amusement at Chris' choice passed, Zach's mind latched on to the naked comment and he quieted down, eyes trained on the passing scenery. They lived only a few miles apart; they'd met through mutual friends at a party years ago, Chris fresh out of Conservatory and Zach so new to Los Angeles that he'd simply been following Kristen's lead. There'd been sparks that night, but they were both young and assumed they'd never meet again.

They'd been wrong, so very wrong, and ran into each other at an organic deli halfway between their homes, a friendship stemming from there. And a great friendship it was: Karl called it epic, John joked about bromance in the same intonation as the most ridiculous of reporters, and even Masi got a few teases in at them.

When it morphed into something more arousing, more affectionate and intimate, Zach couldn't say and he was sure Chris couldn't either. There was definitely attraction between them, but his insecurities made Quinto waver with every passing moment – he wanted Chris in one instant, in the next too scared of the mere idea of a relationship with the man.

"Hey, relax," Chris told him, still smiling, as they turned onto his street. His grin flattened some, however, when Zach's mouth remained in a sharp line, and he asked, "Are you sure you want to do this tonight? You look pretty beat."

Zach sighed and let his head fall against the closed window, the resounding thunk loud in the car; Chris came to a stop in his driveway, the tiny house seemed huge and looming in the twilight of a summer's evening. For a moment, Zach pictured it as a monster, the door a gaping, tearing mouth, then his brain kicked on and he groaned – he was thirty-two years old for fuck's sake.

He reached for the door handle, stopped when the locks snapped shut and he could feel the panic as it rose in his gut; it didn't knock him into a flashback, thank God, because he'd had those before and they were worse than any mental trauma he had suffered there to, but in the span of a split second, Zach could feel the breath on his neck, the weight on his back. Then the phantom sensations passed, gone as swiftly as they'd come, and he realized that Chris was staring at him, finger poised on the lock button.

They were open.

Zach hopped out of the car with more glee then was actually necessary.

**Part Four**

  
Chris had spent the entire day cooking, Zach could tell the minute he walked in, and the time he'd spent on the pasta sauce, on making pasta from scratch, showed. As they ate, Pine shared the reason for the care expressed in food – his grandmother had believed strongly in family time and Sunday dinners, demanding one night a week where her children would be home from dawn until dusk. Together they would cook, trying new recipes or perfecting old ones and she'd carried on the tradition with her grandchildren.

"This is the only thing I can cook worth a damn," Chris admitted as he twirled his fork in the long noodles, spinning it as a child would with the tines against the bottom of the bowl. "They tried to teach me others, but spaghetti and stirfry are all I ever managed without setting the house on fire."

"You set the house on fire?" Zach asked with one eyebrow peaked.

"Twice."

Zach's laugh was mirthful, happy. His eyes crinkled at the corners and his lips curved in a smile and for the first time that night, Chris felt like he was sitting with his best friend and not the weary guy he'd picked up earlier wearing Quinto's face which had been downright unsettling.

Vivacious and brilliant, Zach had never been as quiet or contemplative as he'd been that night. He wasn't an overly demonstrative person at all or particularly outgoing, but Zach had never failed to drop smiles and hold a conversation completely on his own. He'd wooed entire crowds of strangers with his austere charm, his perfect manners, and his knowledge of multiple subjects, including a mastery of the English language that made Chris' BA seem insignificant. His Zach was a somber but easygoing guy, who like reading and laying on beaches.

This Zach looked half-terrified from the minute they'd walked through the door. He'd also immediately made for the kitchen, pouring out a glass of red wine before Chris had even put his keys down – something Zach rarely did unless he was upset about something.

But asking directly had garnered him no results, so Chris decided to swap tactics: if Zach didn't want to tell him what was wrong, perhaps he could figure it out and set Adrian or Jack on it. "So I told you a secret," he said, "You tell me one."

Zach shrugged in response, sipping the too-warm wine and looking away. There was little Chris didn't already know about his life; they'd spent several nights in his living room, drunk off their asses on whatever they could find, trading barbs and the facts of their lives they never shared with the reporters. Now, there were just a handful of secrets Zach still kept to himself, some he was unwilling to share.

"What is this, the sixth grade?" he asked, eying a particularly irregularly shaped noodle.

"Nah – fifth. If this was sixth grade, we'd be trading friendship bracelets and doing blood brothers while our moms flip out about sanitation," Chris shot back.

"You actually traded friendship bracelets with other people?" Zach laughed again, leaning back in his chair and pushing away the mostly-empty bowl. He sipped the wine with a glittering, comfortably look in his eyes, like this were just another night they were hanging around.

Chris answered, "Katie made them for me. She told me it was something big kids do, but not that it was something girls do – not guys. And seeing as I worshipped at my big sister's feet, I believed her. Jason, on the other hand, thought I was weird and stopped hanging out with me at lunch."

"Aww, your first break up!"

"Quiet you," he retorted, smirking as he grabbed his own glass of red and sipped. "I've told you two secrets now. Come on, just a little one? I'm sure there's _something_ I don't know about you."

Chris' chuckle of amusement, the lighthearted delivery, made Zach's chest tighten again. In seconds he was back to the brooding, quiet person that made Pine uneasy; his mind rolled with things to say, nothing that Chris would call a secret, and the few things he'd kept to himself he still wanted to keep to himself. But his friend was persistent if nothing else and until he got an answer, got a secret, Chris wouldn't let it go.

So what to say? What to admit? That his own dad had forgotten who Zach was in his last days, when the cancer had gone to his brain and his very personality had changed? How he'd slept with a grand total of one woman in his life and hadn't even gotten her off, that was how unsure of the female form he was? Or maybe how he jerked off to Princess Diaries every now and again, because Chris' accent was goofy and perfect and Zach wondered if he could get Pine to use it in bed?

The tiny bark of a laugh was filled with sarcasm and disbelief – the longer he spent time with Chris, the more he thought about sex which inevitably led him to think of all the times in the last three years he'd failed as a bedmate. Disillusioned by it all, he'd pretty much stopped going out altogether; what was the point when, these days, people expected sex only to have him panic at the start of it?

"This isn't going to work," he muttered in the end, getting to his feet and unsure how to continue because of everyone in his life, Chris deserved an explanation.

"Zach," Chris answered as his friend walked steadily toward the jacket and other belongings he'd left by the couch. "Hey, talk to me for a second," he went on, "You've been acting strange for the last two days and it's kind of frightening – what's the matter?"

"It's nothing. I just think we're better off friends."

Chris could hear the reluctance in his voice; he could hear the lie for what it was and declared, "Bullshit. We've had chemistry coming out our ears since the day we met. This is something else."

Zach made for the door, but Chris shoved him back, sliding between it and Zach with a firm visage. He wasn't letting this go without a fight, not when Quinto looked ready to fall on his face, when he'd been acting so unlike himself. Chris was certainly _not_ going to drive him home and leave him alone while he was unsure of what was going on.

"Sex," Zach declared, bitterly, "Sex is the matter."

That threw Chris who managed, by some act of God he was sure, to keep his face the same and keep himself calm. "What about it?"

"The last time I actually had it without a panic attack, I was stoned on GHB."

**Interlude: Worth**

  
They'd moved to the couch, curled on separate ends of it with their backs pressed into the arms. Chris had a pillow in his lap that he kept fisting in anger, hoping to keep from spooking Zach any more than he already was, but unable to stop his outward expression of upset.

With every sentence as Zach spilled the story, admitting his assault in a torrent of unchecked words, he'd gotten more upset. He'd had his own fantasies of taking Zach to bed and spending hours going over his body, learning what he liked and what he did, being rough, being slow – he was only human. But two guys in a club had taken away the possibility of at least half his daydreams; of the two blind items attributed to Zach (and Chris had memorized) only one had ever been loudly refuted, the other brushed off and now Chris knew why.

He held in the groan that threatened, his mind racing with thoughts and hopes and memories. _Naked,_ he thought, _I told him we could eat naked. Fuck me sideways._

Slouching down on the couch and letting his head fall against the plush back cushion, Zach stopped and stared at the tangle of his own fingers. He pulled one leg up to rest his chin on a knee, unable to bring himself to look at Chris and see if his face mirrored that of the ER doctor that night. The latent disgust, visible apathy; he was a doctor at an inner city hospital, seeing the worst of humanity every night, so Zach hadn't thought twice about the guy's attitude, but from Chris, it would actually have hurt.

"So it's only Kristen, Milo, and Hayden that know?" Chris asked, still digesting the tale.

Zach nodded, telling him, "And now you."

Four people, Quinto had told a grand total of four people if one didn't include the therapist and doctors, and Chris rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe away the urge to sleep. The adrenaline surge of hearing Zach's speech had kept him alert long after he would normally have gone to bed and now that it was wearing off, he was ready to fall on his face even as his brain raced over the reality that Zach's support system had been nearly non-existent.

Damnit, he'd been sabotaging himself all along while simultaneously trying to "fix" something overnight that could take years. It was no wonder he still had panic attacks and tried to use lackluster attempts at dominance in bed. Especially since Chris knew Zach's MO, knew how closely guarded his sexuality was and he doubted that Zach would have revealed his preferences even to a trained, licensed psychologist.

Closing his eyes to stem the sudden channeling of both his mother and sister, Chris thought over the crossroads they were both suddenly standing on – he could add to Zach's irrationality by allowing them to return to their status as friends and nothing more or he could continue to pursue Zach. And while the former would probably be the easier option as well as the one Zach was expecting, Chris knew they'd both be miserable; the latter would take effort and time and finesse, but Chris had a feeling it'd be worth it.

It'd totally be worth it.

**Part Five**

  
Chris took him home before morning had broken, bouncing down the back roads at a rate of speed that bordered on Warp; he'd worried it'd be a stiff, reticent drive with neither Zach nor himself speaking, but they'd laughed and joked and talked more. By the time they'd reached Zach's, Quinto was acting like himself again – cocky, articulate, and confident – which had eased Chris' worries about leaving the man alone.

Once Chris parked on the street, trying to avoid having to back out of the angled driveway, the laughter stopped however. Their easy banter gave way to a heady feeling, a bite of tension, and he was taken aback by it, though Zach seemed unphased by it.

"Noah's probably bouncing off the walls by now," Chris remarked, wondering for a moment if he'd gone back ten years to high school and his ungainly attempts at dating.

"Bouncing _is_ what he does best." Zach looked at his hands, much as he had earlier in the evening; he sighed, glancing at his house, before turning to Chris. Infuriatingly perfect Chris, who'd heard the story yet still wanted to try having a relationship though Zach was dead-set against it – heartbreak was the only possible way it could end and Zach was not prepared to lose one of his best friends.

"I still think we're a good idea," Chris told him after several minutes of dull silence had passed. With a little smile he added, "At least let me take you out for a second date."

"Chris..."

"Zach, not every guy out there is incapable of understanding you'd like some romance and there are some out there who aren't going to drop off the map if it doesn't work out." He turned in the seat to fully face Zach, one hand settling on the center console in lieu of actually touching his friend and the other clenching the steering wheel. "One more date, that's all I'm asking. If it's too strange or uncomfortable, we cut our losses and say we tried."

The face Zach made was one of begrudging acceptance, nodding instead of speaking and for a second, Chris felt guilty. He didn't want to force Zach into anything, especially if it was only going to induce more upset and frustration, but if there was one thing his friend had stated more than once it was that he was tired of feeling like something to be thrown away simply because he wasn't as sure of himself in bed as he'd once been. He hated how that one thing had colored every dating experience since, taking away a form of human connection that was typically taken for granted.

"Two isn't a good number," Zach muttered.

Unsure of how to respond, Chris shrugged by way of an answer, then squared his shoulders and told Zach, "I'm not asking for declarations of love or devotion or anything like that. Just a date, at a proper restaurant, no dogs, no secret sharing – two guys out for dinner."

Zach rubbed his eyes, toiling over the prospect for a moment. Every date he'd been on in the past had always had a feeling of foreboding over it, a sense of 'here we go again' tinged in sarcasm and pessimism, and while he still had a hint of it right then, something in him was at ease enough to want to agree. To say yes to one more date with Chris, whether it turned out well or not.

"All right," he said, swallowing around the unexpected ball in his throat. "We could try that new place John recommended."

Chris didn't miss the fact that the eatery Zach was referring to, Bistro Americana, was around the corner from Cho's home – a place he could run to if he needed to escape. He hoped desperately it wouldn't be used, but in light of their late-night discussion, he was not about to argue.

"Sunday night good? Around six?"

As he nodded and reached for the door handle, Zach told him, "See you then," and slipped from the car. He trekked up the path, slipping into the house, and only as he tugged off his jacket did he realize: Chris hadn't even tried once to kiss him.

**Part Six**

  
Dinner was wonderful if simple fare, dessert a pleasant experience instead of the painful reminder of what usually came after. They bantered between bites of cheesecake and sorbet, Zach stealing spoonfuls of the confection while Chris battled his utensil with his own and when it was gone, he was still smiling.

The plates cleared away, the coffee long cold, and the check delivered, Zach felt like he had three and a half years ago – charmed, smitten – and he said as much as Chris grabbed for the check Zach had snatched from out of his hand.

"Come on, man, it's only fair. I asked you out, I pay!" Pine pointed out, sure he looked every inch like a scorned child as he tried a sneak attack in a bid to grab the small black booklet. His fingers met air and with a groan, he said, "Next date, you can pay, okay?"

The stun of Chris' exclamation made Zach pause long enough that Chris was able to finally take the check, slot his credit card into the holder, and hand it off to the waiter who'd watched the entire mock-fight amusedly. With their onlooker gone, Zach came down from his shocked high and tried to tamp down the spark of elation that rose at the thought of a third date. The grin that formed was nothing short of goofy, making Chris smirk in response – he knew exactly what Zach was thinking and he was glad for it.

Certainly two dates was not enough, for either himself or Zach, but given the sheer level of doubt Zach had cast on the concept of a partner, Chris couldn't be sure. The smile was, of course, encouraging; still, he had to tread carefully, constantly reminding himself that his patience would be worth it in the end and not allow himself to be too disappointed should Zach call an end to their flourishing romance.

"So, you have any plans for the rest of the night?" he asked casually.

Instantly the smile dropped. "Playing with Noah. Sleeping," Zach answered, his tone clipped and strained. Truly, he'd hoped that Chris would comprehend how slow he needed to go, working up to sex in steps, because while he trusted Chris implicitly, they were no where near the level Zach needed to be that vulnerable again. The very last sexual encounter he'd had stripped him of that when a guy so winsome, so like Chris, had exploited that vulnerability into a blowjob, Zach panicking when he thrust into his throat and getting thrown out for being a "bad lay".

"Zach? Buddy, you okay?" Chris called, eyes alight in concern as he pulled Zach from his painful, disheartening thoughts. "You're not allergic to shellfish or anything, right?"

"No, no. I'm fine." Looking away for a second, he realized the signed check was at Chris' elbow and he swallowed as he stated, "I'd like to go home now."

"Yeah, sure, of course," Chris replied with a furrowed brow. His mind wandered over his words, analyzing the last things he'd said with a critical eye and kicking himself for the unintended double entendre – he had not wanted to ruin their night with any stupid remarks, somehow managing to destroy the light, outgoing mood they'd established at the start of the evening.

The itch to explain overwhelmed him and only once the car doors were closed, their seatbelts snapped into the locks, did he dare try to speak. At first there was nothing, simply the comical opening and closing of his mouth, then Chris found his words in a flurry of thought, saying, "We're not leaving yet. Not until you understand something."

"And what's that?" Zach asked, a little bitter.

Chris' hands went to the steering wheel, fisting the hard leather under his fingers. "Not everything a person says is about sex, Zach," he started, forcibly stopping himself from adding _I asked what you were doing after dinner, not what kind of lube you use or what condoms you prefer!_ Instead, he let out a breath in a loud blow, settling back into the seat as he loosened his hands and added, "I just wanted to talk, like we always do. I know you're not ready to go to bed with me, but, baby, that's not a _dealbreaker_."

Zach frowned, doubtful and not liking it in the least. He opened his mouth, intending to reply, only to be shut out by Chris as he went on, assuaging Zach's fears with every gentle word; three years of therapy sessions and self-help books and Chris was saying everything he needed to hear in technicolor lettering. _Ah, fuck_, his mind shouted at him, _You're a moron, Zachary._

Beside him, Chris brought his sudden, soft tirade to a close, voice trailing off as he admitted, "And God knows this is going to sound like one of my stupid teen chick movies, but Zach, it wasn't your _dick_ I fell in love with – it was your brain. So for one minute, have a little faith in me and trust that I'm not after you for something you're not ready to give."

"And if I'm never ready?"

The question had been unbidden and slipped out before he'd had a second to think it over, but with it hanging in the air, Zach felt a weight lifted from his shoulders; it was something he'd worried over, wondered about though never voiced.

With the most affectionate gaze Zach had cast in his direction in years, Chris told him, "Funny thing about those bridges – I am capable of crossing them when I get to them," before reaching one hand out to brush his knuckles. "So third date?"

His heart pounding and his blood rushing in his ears, Zach's mouth softened into a small smile and he said, "I was thinking the Mexican joint by your place."


End file.
